Goddess Hannah's Harem Pt. 04: Tricia

"So, who here loves pussycats?"

The sound of a moan transformed into a soft mewl from the triggering verbiage.

"They're such fun pets, that deserves such fun titles, like pussy...cat..."

The elongated, orgasmic moan echoed from inside the woman making the sound, to the surrounding crowd that watched in awe as she took on the role of a cat bathing itself with her own tongue seconds later.

"Titles like that must make one wonder its origins, its context. How do you connect a word like cat..." Hannah looked down, smiling and the woman believing her designer clothing was fur to lick, before she rubbed her face affectionately over the magician's calves and ankles.

"...with a word like pussy?" A mewl faltered as vaginal muscles contracted, feeling stimulation deep inside that shook the woman on all fours to the floor, gently convulsing, trying to speak human words or devotion.

"I mean, how can a feline have a pussy while being a pussy?" Each word struck with an electrical jolt of pleasure. "And how can we be sure that the word 'cat' came first?" From laying on the ground, she positioned herself so that her belly was exposed and stretched hands and hind legs were above; both knew the exposed belly was a sign of trust she showed Hannah.

The audience for its own part couldn't take their eyes off the display at the impromptu, private show. In the VIP section of a Monte Carlo casino, all the attention was turned towards the acquaintance of hotel heiress Danielle Avery, a gorgeous brunette with red streaks in her hair, and a charming streak that was vehemently disbelieved by a rich, crass, rude American patron named Ursula. As Hannah was typically used to, disbelief lead to false claims, which lead to enthusiastically debunking them. Magic and hypnotism being farcical to Ursula's mind at first, acceding to Hannah's challenge, claiming she wasn't a pussy, and wouldn't back down from a challenge. The disbeliever's words made Hannah smile deeply, as she made conversational connections to hypnotism being like a lazy cat luxuriating in the sun, drawn to the heat, wanting to feel it everywhere, wanting to feel it deep inside. The next thing the woman subconsciously knew, existence narrowed to being Hannah's feline house pet, and to being Hannah's sexual pet depending on the word the hypnotist chose. Needless to say, every surrounding activity and game stopped to watch Hannah's magic act, interesting everyone, especially someone eying both Hannah and Danielle.

"Such questions posed to peculiar minds, like 'where did the slang term pussy come from,' 'who was the first to make the cat comparison,' and 'why does a word like pussy surge with such power,' such questions might lead some to burst, like my little pet here. Soooo on the verge, so needing to hear it just one...more...time. So at the count of ten, you will hear my command, and act accordingly, forgetting what you're supposed to, remembering exactly what I want you to."

A breathless audience synchronized their breathing on exact ten count, until Hannah snapped her fingers and commanded "wide awake!" It left her audience frustrated, but none more than Ursula, puzzled about why she was so flustered, but happy to praise her change of heart, and the power of magic.

"See Ursula? You're not a pussy after all," Hannah spoke with a Cheshire grin, setting Ursula's loins off to an orgasm she never expected. Gripping the woman firmly, she put her under as she came off her sexual high, and commanded her subconscious to come back the same way she did the first time, but happier, and satisfied.

An ovation filled the space, including Ursula clapping, blissfully unaware of being the star of a show. Hannah took a generous bow, and departed as apart of Danielle's entourage.

Walking through the casino alongside Danielle, Kendra, Sabrina, Cheryl, and Anna, the traveling Goddess Hannah wondered how she was to spend their evening in Monte Carlo. The weather was warm and balmy, but a cool dusk breeze made it feel good to step outside. She wondered if there were any special clubs to attend, or if an evening on the beach property Danielle owned was to be enjoyed. Stealing glances over her sexy, mind-controlled harem, she knew the night would end spectacularly.

As their long, black limousine pulled up at the casino's entrance, the collection of ladies got inside, all laughing and smiling, until they realized there was one extra that entered along with them. Everyone but Danielle was stunned at the appearance of this new lady, dressed like the rest of them in stylish, socialite evening wear, a sexy red maxi-dress and pumps, and blonde up-do and expertly-done makeup behind thin-framed black glasses.

"Hello again, Tricia. I think you've gotten into the wrong limousine," Danielle spoke annoyed, yet amused.

Tricia looked amongst the women and convincingly feigned having made an honest mistake. "Oh my, it looks like I have. Though I can't say it isn't an unpleasant one. When was our last interview exactly?"

"I forget; they all kind of run together. Everyone this is Tricia Trilby, a reported for the U.K. Herald, their top celebrity reporter."

"Oh, you flatter me Danielle; it's so nice to be spoken so highly of."

"Would you be the interviewer behind all those pieces on the Avery family?" Hannah interjected, interested.

"I probably am; the Averys are the talks of many towns and public discussions."

"'Kardashians with Class,' was that yours?"

"Why yes it was, Ms...." Tricia said, extending her hand.

"Hannah, please call me Hannah."

"How very nice to meet you, Hannah. Word is you put on quite a show very recently."

"Were you there to see it?" Danielle asked with curiosity.

"News travels fast," Tricia spoke cryptically, before a smile broke out "though I might've caught a glimpse or two. Never thought I'd see Ursula Webb reduced to...whatever that was."

"Call it a more...open-minded disposition," Hannah explained diplomatically.

"Say Tricia, do we need to get you back, so you can go about trailing the right subject tonight?" Danielle changed the topic.

"Sadly, I think I've missed them. But as a consolation prize, I certainly wouldn't mind doing another Danielle Avery piece, this time about her stunning entourage, which has been getting some talk. Of course, it would be an open invitation for anyone to say anything."

All the women there looked dumbfounded about what was going on, except for Danielle and Hannah, exchanging glances, wordlessly communicating and putting together through past articles that Tricia was a persistent reporter that was exactly right where she wanted to be, and would not be easily to get rid of, in-writing or in-person. "But I do realize I probably crashed a ladies night, and don't want to ruin the good vibes with a lot of questions. If and when you all are comfortable talking to a reporter, please don't hesitate to reach out," Tricia handed Anna her card, as she got out at the next light the limo stopped at. She waved to everyone in the limo, before departing to a nearby bar she was familiar with.

Inside the bar, she ordered a vodka and started taking down notes on her phone about everything she'd seen in Danielle's limo, already formulating several juicy headlines and possible directions, and all the information she could run by her boss. As her drink arrived, so did a small, white napkin, placed next to Tricia by Hannah's hand, the last person she expected to see so soon.

"As public as my exploits seem to have been tonight, I guess I shouldn't be shy about saying something," Hannah smiled warmly, taking the nearest stool so they sat next to one another, giving Tricia all her attention. "And as imaginative as reporters can be with their stories, I feel like I should set the record straight, lest your expose get a little too creative."

"It's not at all an expose, Hannah. It will probably read more like a fluff piece, but pays the bills. And it's what the public is interested in. Who wouldn't want to know how a group of fabulous ladies party."

Hannah signaled the bartender to order the same drink Tricia gingerly sipped on. "You say that Ms. Trilby, and yet I can still see the possible headlines now. 'Lone Wolf Hotel Heiress' Quickly Makes New Friends,' 'Hotel Heiress New Entourage Part of Possible Coup in the Avery Family,' or 'Entourage Under the Spell of a Powerful, Glamorous Woman.'"

Tricia eyed Hannah carefully, a rueful smile crossed her face as she recognized her "Lone Wolf Hotel Heiress" headline spoken almost verbatim. "I try to be a little more tactful with the titling, but I can't claim that the rest of the press won't go with creative ones like what you've said. Danielle and me are on a first-name basis with good reason, as unlike a lot of reports looking to see how far a woman like can fall operate on, I'm more fair when it comes to stories like this, and aren't looking to tear anyone down."

Hannah gave a lighter version of the same smile. "That's true, from what I read of your writing, your not as creatively blood-thirsty when it comes to storytelling. But that doesn't mean that's not what you were aiming for tonight."

"It doesn't have to be that way, Hannah," Tricia said, emphasizing how sympathetic she was trying to be while setting her phone to voice recording. "Speak about whatever you'd like to say about yourself and your relationship with Danielle or the Avery family, and we can go from there."

Looking down at the phone between them on the bar, and a sympathetic face desperately trying to hide excitement over a story being handed to her on a silver platter, Hannah sighed a deep sigh, took a lingering sip of her drink, and faced Tricia.

"Can I assume that some parts of what I'm about to say remain confidential?"

"You have my word."

"As soon as you have my word, right?" Hannah pointedly responded.

Both women laughed at that.

"How did you two meet?"

"The answer to that is pretty complicated, and yet pretty simple at the same time - magic."

"M..magic?"

Hannah held the Tricia's card between her fingers, until a swift, practiced motion made the card disappear into thin air.

"Magic. Or rather, some magic tricks I was doing caught some people's attention."

"Oh. You're a magician?"

"Part-time, at a time when someone like Danielle happened to be around. If you saw the whole exchange with Ursula, you basically saw a nicer version of our first meeting. With a big of hard liquor in her, someone like Danielle can be pretty belligerent, and harder to convince in the existence of magic."

"How drunk was she?"

"Not as intoxicated as she would be several moments later," Hannah quickly answered, confounding the reporter with her choice of words.

"Even the inebriated find a way to be totally fascinated with the right magic trick."

"And what trick was that?" Tricia asked with naked curiosity.

"You mean exact trick?"

"Yes."

"Well..." Hannah put her finger to her bottom lip, as if trying to remember her introductory magic trick with Danielle. The second faux recognition appeared on her face, the finger reached out into Tricia headspace, the direct space in front of her face, and began moving it in a back-and-forth circular motion. Somewhere in the weird motion, Tricia realized she shape Hannah's finger was drawing in the air was an infinity sign. But as Hannah wordlessly continued, the space between thoughts drew even more distant from one another, as Tricia wondered how long she been going on, how if the drawing got any closer to her face, she'd be wearing the shape as a mask. She was constantly the verge of connect drawing the infinity sign with how infinite the motion seemed. It only seemed to stop abruptly, as the finger slowed and dropped to Tricia's cleavage, where Hannah's fingers pulled a long, white pen out of it.

Twirling the pen between her fingers, Hannah spoke after what felt like an eternity. "I get the feeling a reporter as imaginative as you are could all too easily see the scene unfold, feeling the shock that's unable to cut through the pleasant fog magic can cause. Coming from finishing a little adult magic show, the words 'think kink' were fresh on my mind, a little suggestion to open a subject up to the freedom of being free to enjoy one's own sensuality, or sexuality. And what could convince a celebrity of the power of magic than indulging in something so private that they could never live down the headlines. You can easily imagine what that's like Tricia, the words 'think kink.' Their meaning, their rhyme and reason, their effect on the recipient. When magic allows my pen to be pulled from your considerable cleavage, maybe you were already thinking kinky, maybe all you could or wanted to do was 'think kink.'"

And a subject hearing 'think kink' over a dozen times, I don't think they could resist such an effect. However when it comes to this interview, you know what really comes to mind, Tricia?"

A mumbled sound escaped Tricia's lips, barely asking what her reporting mind wanted to.

"How 'ink' is a part of both intoxicating words. I think that struck me because you as a reporter are mostly using your phone to take down all the notes and record everything, but there's something to be said for the old way of doing it, writing down on a piece of paper using ink to get thoughts down. There is a certain power in that, writing something in the physical sense, letting it have an intended, and perhaps unintended effect. I should know, since my 'think kink' routine involved my magic pen, drawing spells and commands into the universe to carry out my will. Magic ink from a magic pen makes that happen, as speaking or writing with my pen puts ink down upon the white, blank will of others, writing what effects will come to you. 'Think kink' Tricia, and see what I mean."

Her dimmed imagination couldn't see the pen writing something, but rather feeling it dictate, or draw some kinky effect. Imagination increased the sensation, suddenly feeling like it was being drawn in the palm of a free hand, and the ink was absorbed into the skin, a warm, compelling current traveling through the body, taking shape and structuring a given command however and whatever Hannah spoke. She slowly, almost timidly reached to caress her own cleavage, stroking the valley between breasts up and down, feeling where the magic pen had been, or just stroking her ever-sensitive flesh because it felt good.

"Very good, Patricia. Very good. Magic ink affects you in profound ways, and continues to do so. Maybe when you take a...drink."

Looking down to the last of her liquor, she slowly sipped the remaining liquid, feeling something intoxicating in a way produced a warm shiver of pleasure inside.

"Maybe when you find a...link, a...link between my words, and your thoughts."

Something clicked in her mind the moment Hannah spoke of it, a connection that blurred words leading to thoughts. Hannah smiled at this, knowing every isolated pronunciation that ended with "ink" spiked Tricia's pleasure, and her need to pay further attention.

"Maybe when you find a need to...blink. Blink for me Patricia." She did a few times. "Blink...whenever I tell you to, until I tell you to stop. Stop now."

Somehow, Tricia's tired eyes managed to stay open as ordered.

"Maybe with every...blink....you find your thoughts...shrink."

Resuming the deliberate eyelid fluctuation, while the quieted, inquisitive, panicked voice within got smaller and smaller, so did every other thought left by the wayside, while Hannah's suggestions roamed freely.

"Maybe with every...blink...you find your will...sink."

The longer each blink lasted in duration, the smaller thoughts got, and the deeper she went. And the deeper she went, the smaller thoughts became, the harder it became to open her heavy eyelids.

"Maybe with every...blink...you think...kink."

Tricia stroked her own exposed cleavage more brazenly, without worrying about the surrounding opinions of others; she couldn't comprehend anyone outside of Hannah for some reason she couldn't care about.

"Maybe the more you...think...kink, the more you find yourself, on the.....brink."

It was a rather vague suggestion, but as both women deeply wanted, the brink translated to plateau of pleasure, a height to reach through obediently letting sexy thoughts dominate her whole mind. Biting her lip and breathing deepening, Tricia felt kinky thoughts bring her closer and closer.

"That's right, very good my nosy little reporter. Maybe as you...think....kink....maybe as you find yourself on the brink..." Tricia's left hand tingled from contact with Hannah's pen like the rest of her body. "Maybe on that brink.....all it might take to bring you over, to take you over, is a....wink. At my wink, your pleasure will spike, signifying the effect my ink, my magic has on journalist mind, reporting all the facts you need to know deep in that lovingly-vacant head."

Hannah leaned back and let Tricia get a long look at her face, waiting for an eternity before winking at the woman, setting off a small, barely-contained orgasm, with Hannah gripping her and guiding her heightened pleasure, lacing it with suggestions.

Deep whispers surrounded Tricia's sleepy head, making her ever so drowsy while keeping her awake enough to hear the commands that would decide her immediate future. An arm draped over her, to many passerby's they could've looked like two friends gabbing; Hannah took the opportunity to survey the bar to see if anyone else was curious or captivated by her "interview." Most of the bar seemed not to notice, except for one guy off at the end of the bar, a guy in a grey suit, with slim build yet ruggedly handsome face. His and Hannah's eyes met briefly before he looked away, giving Hannah a deep pause of concern; something about him seemed very off. Looking too inconspicuous, trying hard not to be noticed, he stood out to Hannah's acutely intuitive mind, stood out in a bad way. More than just a guy leering over two close women, dreaming about possibly accurate lesbian fantasies, something about him suggested action, like he was going to do something, but just ruined the element of surprise.

Sharp, hypnotic green eyes looked back and forth between the man and Tricia briefly, wondering if he was part of whatever original plans Tricia had; taking that possibility into account, she openly laughed as she gave Tricia innocuous-sounding instructions, as she grabbed her phone and headed to the ladies room at the other end of the bar, bypassing the caught man.

***

Bernard cursed himself for being found out, but he blamed it all on the display of the two women across the bar. Something about the brunette with red streaks was so charming; he knew Tricia was a goner the moment her new companion sat next to her, despite all her previous bravado about how nothing interferes with her getting her story; he smirked inwardly at how Hannah was probably the superior storyteller.

He tried concentrating solely on his phone as Hannah walked by, trying to seem like an annoying admirer at best. His phone-staring tactic faltered as he watched Tricia get up slowly, somehow of her own volition after looking practically lifeless next to Hannah, and get up to head out to what looked like the same limo she emerged from earlier. Bernard nearly panicked as he needed to follow and keep up with Patricia, as their boss wanted.

"Excuse me, but is this your pen?"

Before he could grab a wad of money to leave on the bar, he turned to face Hannah holding a white pen in her hands. One end was lit brilliantly, and practically danced as her fingers twirled the pen between her fingers.

"Is this your pen, sir? If it is, would you mind if I borrowed it? May I borrow the brilliant tool that writes down your thoughts? May I borrow this to write down some thoughts? May I borrow this to write down thought for you? May I borrow this to write down your thoughts? May I borrow your thoughts? Is this pen your thoughts? Is the only thought you know a brilliant light you don't have to be told to follow? What if the brilliant pen wrote down and told you to SLEEP!" Hannah gave a sharp whisper and pulled at that the hand Bernard was too distracted to realize was grasped. More sharp, quiet commands penetrated deep into his mind as she took a seat next to the man.